the wishes that we bury

our lives are but recurrences of our memories
and our memories are the future of thoughts
and events and touches that we refuse to let go.
that we refuse to bury under a heap of dirt.
And even if we do, we plant a sapling.

We say we know it's not gonna live..
but we water it every day..
and we are wary of the birds that pluck at it.
We are wary of strangers that might trample it...

And when on a sunny morning, a yellow flower blooms
we relive the pain of what was buried.

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A CONVERSATION WITH THE ZEROETH DIMENSION

(1) It used to happen around this time of the year. A friend’s shadow peeped into my room. It kissed my diaries, played with my pens, Danced upon my desk… as if to remind me of his camaraderie with them. as if to assure me--- ”The winters past, life is here to stay” The chiaroscuro of broken shadows and the sun filtering through its leaves silently sat through whatever I had to say. Scribblings of my would-be-poems; secrets and distorted thoughts childish whims that crossed my mind… …he heard it all. But what he heard the most were my fears-- Fears, which needed no solution. Fears, which had no solutions. But Fears that needed to be spoken to . If there were those nights of dark and murky fears, there were sunny days too. There was a day when I first fell in love. And to make my friend a part of my happiness I tied a red ribbon around its lowest branch…

BLOOD ROMANCE

It was his idea to skip the main road and go for adventure at the middle of the night. Her mood was already bright as she laid her head on his shoulder. Driving through the woods, suddenly the tyre went flat. It was an abrupt jerk. Comprehending the situation, they both felt elated. Except the slow waltz that played in their car, everything was quiet. Wasn’t this what they both wanted? Albeit, for different reasons. Quelling their excitement, they wore the well-rehearsed masks of fear and disgust for getting caught in this unwanted situation. She had carried the knife hidden securely beneath the drapes of her dress as was his lust, veiled by the clemency of his innocent blue eyes. Already in her 40’s, her body exuded the rare combination of sensuality, intelligence and beauty. As an artist, she always had her muses in younger men---guys in their 20’s. The passion that these men enthused kept her adrenaline gushing and her arts towered to their crescendo. Her paintings were vividly

In conversation with myself on a midnight trying to mend a broken heart

Let me for the first time,lay in your absence in an empty bed, trying to fully process your loss.Let me for the first time accept that i had fallen in love with you.That said,a silence falls upon my heart.'Cause i have never quite owed up to loving someone as easily as i did about you. And never quite have been misjudged for it. i couldn't bring myself to hate you. i lay sometimes in between the areas of love and not so love.Maybe you can call it hate. And i am in a proces of deleting the hate to see how much i had loved you. i am surprised by it. Kindering an emotion so strong in my broken soul must have taken some magic. Unravelling, for me was never an easy task. Surrendering, could have been an option but i have been hurt too many times & in too many places, hating too many people in the process. and when i remove those hatred, i see you in a different light. Naive and as keen as me to receive love. But then what went wrong? Another world could ha

THAT WHICH GOES UNSAID...

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